Chapter 1 - June 1999

Control. It was Hermione Granger's favorite feeling. Control was what the "brightest witch of her age" sought at all times. In fact, she craved it. For a long time, control had been a rare, almost non-existent commodity, as she and Harry and Ron fought to vanquish Lord Voldemort and his followers, but in the year following the Final Battle, Hermione had been reunited with her favorite feeling and vowed to hold onto it indefinitely. As a result, while the wizarding world was building a safer future, Hermione was working tirelessly to organize her life in a way that allowed her to focus and balance every aspect.

Opting to complete her N.E.W.T.'s via correspondence, the bushy-haired witch had moved into the Burrow following the final battle, spending most of her time there cooped up in the small room she shared with Ginny, who had, at the insistence of her mother, returned to Hogwarts for her seventh year. When Hermione wasn't there she could be found in a well-lit, private room above the Leaky Cauldron gifted to her by grateful residents of Diagon Alley as her personal library, with books piled around her, studying hard and absentmindedly eating the meals the barkeep Tom served her. These were not typical pub-style meals, however. Part of Hermione's efforts to monitor herself included diligence in her diet, so when she first agreed to use the establishment as her new study hall, she provided Tom (much to the old wizard's dismay) a list of essential ingredients and healthy meals she would eat. And, as she was one-third of the Golden Trio who had rescued their world from destruction, who was Tom to deny her? He had told the three heroes that their money was no good at his establishment, and he begrudgingly found that he couldn't not do the genius witch's bidding.

It was on a warm spring Monday just over a year after the Final Battle that Hermione was seated in the restaurant proper, desiring a break from her self-imposed solitude but nonetheless lost in thought revising her final essay on Advanced Ancient Runes. The repetitive motion of twirling a curl around her left index finger went unnoticed by the perpetrator. So too did the spreading of ink in an increasing radius from the corner of her mouth as she distractedly nibbled the end of her quill. Wide brown eyes gazed into the ether, ignoring the reality bustling around her.

"Granger!" a loud male voice bellowed out happily. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Hermione's innate scowl brought upon by interruption quickly changed to a gentler expression as a broad-shouldered, red-headed man strode into her personal space.

"Hello, George; how are you?"

"Well that's awfully formal, isn't it?" George Weasley sounded a bit surprised as he began haphazardly lifting stacks of books off the seat to make himself at home. "Greetings and salutations to you too," he mocked in a formal voice, bowing grandly before sitting down.

"Sorry, I was just really concentrating - didn't mean to sound so...so…" her voice trailed off. She tensed at the sight of her study materials being touched without her permission. Leave it to a Weasley to wreak havoc at first sight.

"Stuffy? Snooty? Snobby? Sanctimonious?" George provided, his lips curling up at the corners. "See, you're not the only one with a large vocabulary!" The jokester was enjoying playing with her.

Hermione flushed and wriggled impatiently in her seat. "What do you want, George? Or did you just come to show off the fact that your word-of-the-day calendar has finally taught you something?" She grinned in triumph at gaining the upper hand. It wasn't often that someone bested the Weasley twin in humor.

"Word-of-the-day calendar?" He looked at her, confused. "Oh, let me guess, something from the Muggle world, is that it, Granger? You know you can't possibly match my wizarding wits so you resort to Muggle references. I see how it is." On the surface, George appeared offended, but Hermione knew better than to fall for his wounded act.

"Yup, that's it," she sighed, rolling her eyes but chuckling. "I guess there's no getting one over on you." She straightened up and took a sip of the tea in front of her, grimacing when she found it cold.

Eyeing the mountain of crumpled up parchment, plates of half-eaten food, and three mugs of half-drunk tea, George asked, "How long have you been sitting here?"

"Um...not too long?" Hermione looked around guiltily.

"Right." Her companion doubted her. "What say you take a break?" He stood up and held out his hand.

"Now? Like, right now? I couldn't, I can't! Exams are only two weeks away, and I haven't finished revising my Potions notes, and what if they ask about the interaction of asphodel in Wiggenweld potion? I have to review this information or else I'll fail, and if I fail I won't be able to get a job, and if I can't get a job then, then..." Hermione panicked and rambled, but eventually her words trailed off as no further excuses came to mind.

George waited patiently, grinning like the Cheshire cat, for her to come to her senses, and Hermione eventually sighed, stood, and accepted his hand. "You've got one hour, George. Where to?"

"Why don't we start with a bit of fresh air?" he suggested.

"Okay," the busy witch agreed, and she stretched her arms over her head and bent her stiff legs a little. George reached over and pulled three quills out of her messy bun, her chestnut curls cascading down to her shoulders. She blushed at the contact, and his eyes widened a bit. Without comment, the pair stepped out into the bright sunlight.

For the next hour, they strolled through Diagon Alley, window shopping and enjoying the warm weather. The two had never spent time alone with one another, which gave them a wide range of topics to chat about. Eventually, they found themselves back at the door of The Leaky Cauldron and Hermione took a step inside, but then she paused and turned back towards George.

"Thanks so much for giving me a break from my studies, George, but I'd better get back at it," she said, an air of formality returning to her voice. "I'm sure I'll see you at Sunday dinner."

"Anytime, Granger," George replied, but his smile no longer reached his eyes. "Glad to provide the distraction. See you around." He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked away, head dropping.

That was odd, Hermione thought. What happened to his mood? We had a good time, I thought. She shrugged and gathered her books up, apparating to the Burrow in time for dinner. As she freshened up, her mind returned to that final moment with George. She was flummoxed. Why would he look so downtrodden suddenly?

Although, it's not like he doesn't have a completely legitimate reason to be upset, she acknowledged. Fred's death during the Battle at Hogwarts cast a deep depression on the remaining twin, a shadow that had hung over him solidly for the first six months afterwards and lingered still. But with his friends' and family's love and support, over time he decided to rebuild their store and prepare it to reopen, and a few months later, Weasley Wizard Wheezes was resuscitated, in turn breathing life into the remaining founder. George thrived running the shop again, as much as one could call it that after losing his other half. He finally started coming to dinner every Sunday at the Burrow, cracked jokes more frequently, and he even played a few pranks like old times, though his tricks were a little more predictable these days, and his smiles never quite reached his bright blue eyes. In fact, Hermione realized, his recent antics were nothing more than recycled pranks he and Fred used to pull.

A thought occurred to Hermione: Does Weasley Wizard Wheezes have any new products? Has he stopped inventing? She paused in her hair brushing and tried to remember the last time she saw George covered in soot, slime, or dangerous potion. Ultimately, she realized, she hadn't. Her thoughts swirled around George's predicament as she headed to the kitchen to help Mrs. Weasley.

Hermione was distracted all through dinner. She viewed George as a problem to solve, and her take-charge nature hated that she could not come up with a solution off the top of her head. She had worked very hard over the past twelve months to put the pieces of her life back together in a comfortable order. First, there was the task of burying the dead, which sadly, she became all too good at managing. She took it upon herself to aide her mourning friends and fellow wizards, organising schedules, locations, and other necessary funeral arrangements for a half dozen lost loved ones. A month later she and Ron traveled to Australia to recover her parents, which also, rather unexpectedly, gave her an opportunity to sort out their relationship. As they searched for "Monica and Wendell Wilkins," the romantically conflicted pair came to the disappointing yet honest conclusion that their passion for bickering did not translate into a passionate love for one another. Every conversation about taking the next steps as a couple led them to realize the friends were picturing two very different futures. In the end, they spent the time mourning the loss of something they never truly had, engaging in a break-up that would permit them to remain friends, though slightly awkward for awhile.

Unfortunately, the objective of the trip was not met. Within a week of their arrival, Ron and Hermione had found Hermione's parents in Melbourne; however, there was no safe way to reverse the complex spells Hermione had cast to obliviate all memories of her from their lives, in spite of her careful preparation and planning. Unable to leave without closure, Hermione met the Wilkinses by pretending to be an exchange student staying in the area for a few days, and then she left forever, knowing she would never see them again. The pain of losing her parents destroyed the young witch's emotional barriers, and Ron stayed by her side as she grieved her terrible loss.

In honor of her lost parents and their dedication to their daughter's education, Hermione decided to finish her schooling. In August she arranged a meeting with Headmistress McGonagall, who recommended that the young heroine complete her coursework independently and owl it to her professors monthly. Hermione was relieved by the offer and accepted it graciously. She couldn't fathom re-entering the grounds or castle she now considered hallowed. Not yet, anyway. And now, a year later, she finally felt confident that she was taking back her life and moving into adulthood on her own terms.